My Greatest Teacher of Presence

Honoring my dad for showing me what it means to be fully alive — here and now

Life abounds in the simple moments. The moments when we are so fully present that we lose our sense of self and time. We are beautiful works of art carved through all of our life experiences, simply immersed in the infinite present moment. The only thing that separates us from realizing the joy of the now is a shift in perspective.

My fondest childhood memories were never of things but rather of the most common activities of daily life.

Like when dad and I went to do our weekly grocery-shopping trip on Saturday mornings. I’d get a freshly baked blueberry muffin and then lick the paper cup that it came in — that was my favorite part! Then we would head over to one of the two pubs in our village where he’d catch up on the latest with his friends over some beers while I ran out to the village square to play with whoever else happened to be outside that day.

When it was time for lunch, we strolled along the grassy path behind the village back to our cottage. Our garden was always teeming with life throughout the summer — from raspberries and black currant to carrots and cucumbers. We’d pick the freshest head of lettuce and soak it in some vinegar for a quick salad. I remember the warmth of the sun on my skin all those times I sat on the front steps peeling potatoes while dad cooked the meat.

Whether it was hanging laundry on the line outside in the sun, raking those brown and orange leaves in the fall, or going for walks in the nearby woods, I clearly recall how dad remained fully immersed in each activity.

He brought his whole being to every task — never complaining or worrying about the next thing that needed to be done. He would find the wonder in the simplest things. He would point them out so we could stand in awe of them together: a butterfly landing on a flower, a strawberry that had just ripened, a murmuring stream in the forest that was clean enough to drink from.

The little things don’t seem so little anymore — and they are still what makes life worth living.

At that time, I didn’t know it, but he was my teacher of what it meant to be present. He never lost his sense of wonder.

And I am forever grateful that he left a piece of that with me.

As we grow up, we may feel that we no longer have the right to see life from a place of awe and wonder — that this is reserved for children or for special occasions. We are conditioned to focus on the “reality” of adulthood while we forget that reality is nowhere else but here…amongst these simple moments. Life is happening — even while we are often busy planning for more of life — as if it wasn’t here already.

How much more delicious and real could life get than its little miracles along the way, the ones that are unfolding even as we seek something that we deem to be greater?

I have decided to no longer apologize for or try to suppress my awe at what we call “the simple things in life.” I will never get enough of sunrises and sunsets. I can’t help but get super excited about camping out under the night sky or playing in the snow. I love finding pure joy in a cone of ice cream on a hot summer day. I enjoy my deep love of all sorts of flavors of food. I love my fascination with the world and my desire to explore as many corners of this earth as I can.

I love being human — in this body — at this time, on this amazing planet. That’s where I find my meaning — I infuse it into life just as dad did every day.

Just as you, you wonderful human being, have the power to do the same — simply through noticing what a miracle this life is and what a miracle you are.

Happy Father’s day to all the wonderful fathers out there!